


Final(ly)

by GoForGoals



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoForGoals/pseuds/GoForGoals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Marco plays the final of the Europa League Cup? Will he finally be on the winning side?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final(ly)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sjst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sjst/gifts).



> Dear sjst, this little one shot goes out to you as a 'thank you' for your wonderful stories and your lovely comments! I hope that you will like this fic - there can't be enough Durmeus in the world, can it? :-D
> 
> Thank you, Blue_Night, for not only beta-reading this story but also adding a very important part. :-)
> 
> Dear readers, I have some kind of writer's block at the moment. I hope that it will be over soon and that this little one shot might be the start. Please, enjoy it and share your opinion with me. :-)

Marco saw Auba falling to the ground, fouled in the box. Luckily, the Gabonese was able to roll on the ground and to stand up because the last thing the team needed in this all important match was an injured striker.

Time stood still while Marco waited for the reaction of the referee to the foul, for the whistle that would hopefully announce the penalty.    
   
Everything what happened after the blew, Marco couldn’t even remember when he was asked about the incidents later. He knew that he was the one to take the penalty kick when he saw the referee pointing at the spot, eleven meters away from the goal; the one who could bring the squad to the front.    
   
The one who could win the Europa League Cup with his beloved team.    
   
They had played for almost 90 minutes, only managing a draw, until Auba had broken through into the box, ready to score a goal, brought down rudely by his opponent.

And now it was on Marco to perform the final step.    

He grabbed the ball, focusing on nothing else than the goalkeeper and his task. He was only seconds away from his first title, the first title he wanted to win with all that he had. Marco placed the ball onto the penalty spot and walked a few meters back, his hands on his hips, waiting for the referee to allow him to shoot. To allow him to _score_.    
   
When he heard the whistle, the blond took a run-up and hammered his foot against the ball, putting some swerve onto it so that it would land into the left lower corner of the goal.    

The shot was great, fast and determined and Marco held his breath, watching the ball moving towards the goal.   
   
Suddenly, its way was crossed by the opponent goalkeeper who reached it with his fingertips, saving and parrying it, causing the people on the stands to go crazy.    
   
Marco, however, was dead inside.  

 

***  

 

After he had missed to score, Marco remembered the words Erik, his secret boyfriend, had said to him a few weeks ago, of all things. „Babe, I'm sorry, but I’m not ready yet,“ Erik had stated, looking miserably but also very sure about this topic.

They had been together since a few months, and Marco was so happy with the younger one that he seriously considered a coming-out, wanting nothing more than to leave the shadows and to stand by the love of his life.   
   
Erik on the other hand was still too afraid to fulfill his wish. He was afraid of the reactions of the team and the public, and so they continued with their double life that Marco hated from the bottom of his heart. Sometimes, he tried to convince Erik to trust him and to go through the storm that would wait in front of them if they would live their relationship openly but, the young defender hesitated.    
   
„Marco!“ he heard an urgent voice, a voice he knew all too well. He blinked, noticing that he was still standing on the pitch, that it was still the Cup Final and that he still had fucked up everything. He didn’t want to take a look at his counterpart. To be honest, he didn’t want to take a look into _any_ face, well aware that his teammates would be angry and desperate, not believing that he had failed.    
   
„Marco!“ the voice repeated and now the blond realized that the normal time of the Cup final must be over and that there would be an extra-time. He blinked again because of a sudden buzzing sound that was caused by a TV camera that held straight into his face, ready to catch every single emotion, every sign of regret, shock and forlornness. All of a sudden, he hated his profession and everything that came with it. Then, he heard the voice for the third time.   
   
„Marco!“ Erik now practically yelled, sweat running down his sweet face, his jersey glued to his body because the defenders had had a hell of a job to keep the opponents from Roman’s goal.    
   
„I’m sorry,“ the midfielder stammered, seeing his teammates coming over to him, as well. He felt arms holding him close, hands caressing him, and he heard words of comfort and solace that were mumbled into his ear.

But, he was still dead inside.    

When his teammates walked away from him, joining the trainer to get the last instructions for the extra-time, he continued to feel the presence of another person next to him.    
   
„Marco,“ Erik whispered and this time, the midfielder stopped, turning to his boyfriend, his gaze a window to the blank despair that had overcome him in the second his penalty had been saved. Erik held eye contact with the blond, the humming of the cameras behind them.    
   
Carefully, the young defender made a step forward so that he stood in front of Marco. He embraced him and whispered three oh so important words into his ear before he took Marco’s face into his hands.    
   
And then, Erik kissed his boyfriend very softly, right in the middle of the pitch, surrounded by all the spectators in the stadium and watched by TV viewers all around the world. It wasn’t a kiss between friends or teammates, it was a kiss of love that hundreds of thousands witnessed.    
   
„Erik!“ Marco stammered, looking at his boyfriend incredulously. He needed some time to understand what the younger one had done but then, his heart was filled with pride and passion. „I’ll win the Cup for us,“ he murmured, to himself and most of all to his beloved one.    
   
„Sure you’ll do,“ Erik answered as if it was the most natural thing.  

 

*** 

 

In the 101. minute of the extra-time, Marco saw Auba standing on the right wing, controlling a cross from Erik. He raised his arm to show his friend that he was standing in front of the goal, undefended, and the striker got the hint, passing the ball to him.    
   
This time, Marco didn’t fail, nailing the ball unstoppable under the bar.    
   
It took another endless 19 minutes but then, the team had won the match. The players jumped over the pitch, crashing into each other, a heap of black-and-yellow stacked on the ground.    
   
Only one player was standing a little bit aside, savoring the moment in his very own way.    
   
Marco’s gaze shifted between the Cup and Erik, Erik and the Cup, not knowing what was the huger gift he had gained in this exceptional night.

But, when their eyes met again, he realized that this would never be a real question, because love is the most important thing in the world, more important than wins and titles, the one thing that makes life truly worth living and makes you able to endure everything and never give up your hope.

Erik's love had been the one thing that had made him outgrow himself and shoot the deciding goal. Erik's love had been what had made him win this Cup and his first title.    

Finally.


End file.
